


but with what we have

by myconstant



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myconstant/pseuds/myconstant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the wake of an extraterrestrial encounter, he is still a man of habit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but with what we have

He comes to accept it relatively easily, the fact that the world is a lot bigger than previously thought. Jeff keeps talking about the absurd unlikelihood of it all – Amy's imaginary friend, the incineration of Earth, Patrick Moore – but Rory just stays quiet. He knows. He knows that impossible things have happened, that he was briefly (for twenty minutes, _at least_ ) at the center of an oncoming storm. The universe is vast and improbable, but that makes sense to him because he's always been under the impression that it might just be the case.

He can accept it, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he likes it.

So, he doesn't sleep that night. Instead, he makes cups of tea and furiously combs Google for traces of blue boxes, aliens with medical credentials, and the physics of time travel. His alarm goes off unexpectedly at six thirty as Rory hits the print button, muted sunlight slowly filtering through the floor of his room. In three minutes there is a stack of seemingly relevant files written by an apparently informed bloke named Clive Finch and Rory eyes the pile warily. It seems like everybody knows something he doesn't these days.

Even in the wake of an extraterrestrial encounter, he is still a man of habit. Leaving the research on his desk, Rory puts on his uniform and drives to work, listening to that Beethoven cassette someone left in his car months ago. There are more patients than usual that morning visiting the Emergency Unit and rightly so, he supposes - spaceships in the sky and eyeballs taking over the telly and all. Journalists with their cameras and microphones loiter out front of the hospital and Rory wishes this would all just settle down already.

It's around ten o'clock that he's on his way to the lab to check on Mr. Jones's test results that he passes the trauma ward. There's a strange stillness inside, a quiet different from what it had been like before the patients were evacuated (even though no one had woken up in months, he had always thought the silence in the ward was deafening). He pauses in the doorway and surveys the broken windows and the glass scattered across the floor and beds inside. The firetruck's ladder, he supposes.

Another hand finds his and gently coaxes his fingers out of a curled fist.

“Hey,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry about your boss.”

Rory automatically shakes his head, but he’s not sure what he means by it. The past twenty-four hours, a blur of haphazard understanding and realization and aliens and time machines, feel so disjointed and his brain is still foggy from staying awake. Amy's hand tightens a bit around his.

“I’m also sorry I said those things to you,” she continues. Her tone is soft and uncharacteristically resigned. “I was upset, but I still shouldn’t have.”

“It’s fine, I get it. You're right to be upset with everyone. Your aunt. The doctors. Me. _Him_.”

Amy shrugs, but her grip on his hand doesn't loosen. “Not really, you know. The Earth wasn't burnt to a crisp. I should be happy that we made it alive. That we're okay.”

“Four psychiatrists, though.” He looks from the broken window and to her face. Her eyes are bright. “When you had been right the whole time.”

To his surprise, Amy Pond laughs openly and then leans her head against his shoulder. “Have I lost all my charm then? Now that I'm no longer a mad mental case?”

Rory scuffs his shoes against the floor, aware of the weight of her against him. “There are definitely a few screws still loose.”

He looks down at her again and notices a tattered blue shirt tucked protectively beneath her arm.

“Collected that from the staff lockers?” he asks.

“Ah, well. He's not coming back.” She exhales quietly. “This is just so I can remember it was real.”

He nudges her a little bit. “I’m surprised you didn’t take his trousers too.”

Amy turns her head up and smiles at him then and his heart finally begins to feel a little lighter.


End file.
